


Feeling Pretty

by ThisIsHowIShowMyLove (Aelphaba)



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Background Logic | Logan Sanders, Background Morality | Patton Sanders, Coming Out, Established Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders, Gender Confusion, Gender Dysphoria, Gender Identity, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Insecure Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Internalized Misogyny, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Sympathetic Anxiety | Virgil Sanders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:26:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24586066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aelphaba/pseuds/ThisIsHowIShowMyLove
Summary: Virgil wasn't the only one of them that wore makeup. Sometimes, when he was in a particular mood, Roman liked to put on a little something extra to help him feel pretty.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders
Comments: 9
Kudos: 132





	1. Chapter 1

Roman usually took impeccable care of his skin. He had a rigorous cleansing and moisturising routine, so his skin was typically clear, smooth and free of blemishes. However, on occasion, he felt he needed that little extra something. So, he would lock himself away in the ensuite bathroom he technically shared with Logan and create a face for the day. Not that the nerd used the space that often anymore – he primarily used his own bedroom as a library and study space, while actually "cohabiting" with Patton. So, so long as he cleaned up any spills once he was done and left the area as he found it, his housemate was unlikely to notice.

Usually, he kept it simple. Some concealer, a little tinted moisturiser. A touch of bronzer to highlight his best features. Clear mascara to lengthen his eyelashes and make his eyes pop. The slightest hint of lip gloss. Nothing too apparent to the naked eye, not unless you looked very carefully or intently for an extended period (Roman never stayed still for long enough for anyone to do that anyway). It was just enough to give Roman back enough of his confidence so he could get on with his day.

It was all very natural looking. Nothing out of the ordinary. After all, men don't wear makeup, unless you're involved with a particular scene. Like Virgil, for example. But Roman wasn't emo, or into the punk scene. Too much black was not a good look on him without a lot of colour to break it up. He'd wear a black suit if it were a special occasion, but only if it had a fun, patterned lining or he could pair it with a coloured shirt. Too much black did horrible things to his skin tone in pictures. Between that and his so-called "obnoxious" optimism, he would never fit in with Virgil's crowd.

So, if anyone asked, Roman didn't wear makeup. He wasn't like that. As far as anyone knew, he only wore makeup when he was on the stage, and that was purely out of necessity. No one really needed to know the truth.

However, sometimes, the natural look wasn't enough. Sometimes, Roman would look in the mirror, and he would feel so wrong. Sometimes, he just needed to look pretty. On those days, he would lock himself inside his bedroom, sit at his desk and uncover the sizeable backlit makeup mirror he'd smuggled in one day while his housemates were at work. He'd take out the full makeup kit he hid in a box of old scripts and playbills and get to work.

The face he would create on these days was a little less natural, and a little more… something else. Roman didn't always like to put words to what he saw in the mirror when he was done. It was the only time he would allow himself to use the full array of palettes, brushes and liquids. He was creating a masterpiece, but instead of working on canvas, it was a face. And when he looked into the mirror at the end, someone else stared back at him. Someone beautiful. On those days, he would stay in his room for as long as possible. Just sitting and looking, basking in the glory of the gorgeous face in the mirror.

It wasn't his face, precisely. It just was the face he saw in the mirror. Because his face wasn't allowed to look that pretty. Men don't look pretty. Only girls are pretty. Real men are rugged and handsome. Real men do not wear makeup. Except for Virgil. Virgil was emo – he didn't look girly when he wore his makeup. It was just part of his scene. Virgil was very manly. Not like Roman.

Eventually, however, someone would want his attention. Perhaps, Patton might call him down for dinner. Or Logan might have a question. Or Virgil would just want to hang out. So, Roman would get out his makeup wipes and cleansers and slowly remove that day's face.

Roman had never really had a word precisely to explain what happened to him on the days where he needed a little something more. Sometimes on those days, he would look at himself in the mirror and think that something was missing. That he needed something else to make the look complete. He would wonder if, perhaps, his clothes were wrong. Or his hair. Sometimes, if no one else was in the house, he would allow himself to experiment with different ways to style his hair. On more than one occasion, he'd considered growing his hair out, so he could have more to do on those days. But almost immediately, his mind would retaliate. What would people think? What possible excuse could he give for growing out his hair – that sometimes he just wanted to look pretty? He'd be a laughingstock.

When Roman woke up, he immediately knew that today was going to be one of those days. He only had to look in the mirror to be entirely sure – everything he saw just felt so incredibly wrong. The sight of his face and his hair and his body made him want to vomit. He had tried the "natural" look to try to take the edge off, but his mind was having none of it. It wasn't enough. So, he cleaned his initial attempt away and dragged out the full kit. Blush and lipstick. Eyeliner, mascara and eye shadow. Full foundation. He styled his hair. He even indulged in a little body glitter.

When he looked in the mirror, he was impressed with the final product. The face he saw was undeniably beautiful. The hair was being oddly cooperative. It was sitting in a way that was both aesthetically pleasing and looked good with the rest of what Roman had done. But something was missing. He wanted so desperately to cry, to scream, but he held it all in. It was just a bad day. There was no need to get so dramatic about it. Whatever was missing, surely, he could fix it.

Roman looked down at his body, and a stray thought slipped into his mind. An idea that he'd considered many times before, but had always discarded, for it was so outrageous that he could never seriously contemplate it. It was a simple thought, but one with such dire potential consequences.

What if he wore a dress?

For once, the thought didn't immediately fill him with dread. He didn't exactly have anything in his wardrobe, but he could experiment a little. He didn't necessarily have to go all out, but there wasn't any harm in his clothes being a little feminine, right? It was just to go with the face, and no one was going to see, so what harm was there? He just really wanted to look pretty.

Roman made a beeline for his dresser. He had this one pair of skinny jeans that made his ass look fantastic, but he hadn't worn them in years. Not since someone told him that he looked like a slut in them, anyway. Roman had felt so pretty that day (until the asshole ruined it), so he was determined to recreate it. It took a bit of effort – heavens above, they were skinny – but finally having them on was like a breath of fresh air. They hugged his ass in a way that made Roman feel powerful, like he could command the attention of anyone who entered the room, and made his legs look like they went on forever. The only thing that he thought could make them look better is if he wore high heels, which he sadly didn't own. But it was better than nothing, at least. Now all he needed was the right shirt.

Roman sashayed over to his wardrobe. He couldn't help it in these jeans – they always made him want to strut! He frowned a little at the selection. He didn't lack in clothes, that much was certain, but nothing was leaping out at him and saying "pretty". Except for that one shirt that Virgil had gotten him as a gift for his birthday a few years prior. He had intended it as a joke and Roman had made sure to laugh appropriately and swear loudly that he would never wear it. Yet, he'd kept it hidden in the back of his wardrobe. It was white, with a wide neckline and the hem came down past his hips. It was a little big on him, but the print on the chest was adorable. It was a picture of a unicorn, in every colour of the rainbow, with the words "Kawaii Bitch" printed beneath.

Roman loved it, not that he'd ever say so out loud. He suspected that it was something that the "pastel goths" that Virgil despised so much would wear. Yet, he had bought it deliberately for Roman. It was sweet that Virgil would dare cross the boundary into a shop that no self-respecting emo would ever dare enter, just to get him a gift. So, considering the ridiculous thing he was currently doing, it felt appropriate to finally wear it. Roman pulled the shirt over his head, careful not to mess up either his makeup or his hair, then went to stand in front of the mirror.

He looked… amazing. Roman turned side on and, even with the long shirt, his ass still looked incredible. Everything was perfect! For the first time in what felt like years, Roman was at peace. He smiled at his reflection. He took a moment to adjust the shirt, allowing the wide neckline to fall over one shoulder. He looked so pretty!

Unfortunately, the euphoric bubble burst mere moments later when he noticed a figure clad in black and purple step into the edge of the mirror's reflected view. Roman spun around, stumbling back against the wall. How had Virgil gotten in here? Hadn't he locked the door before he started? Had he locked it?

"What are you doing here?!"


	2. Chapter 2

Virgil had known Roman for a long time. They'd met in freshman year of college and immediately struck up a rivalry. They were only moderately antagonistic, primarily sticking to insulting nicknames and continually trying to outdo one another. This transformed into friendship in their sophomore year, when Virgil and Roman's roommates locked them out of their dorms on the same night. They chose to sneak into the games room so they could spend the night in relative comfort, rather than on the ancient couches in the commons or on the floor outside their respective dorms. Their shared adventure - coupled with Roman's discovery that yes, Virgil did like Disney movies - had apparently "bonded them for life" allowing them to spend quality time together without continually insulting one another.

Roman and Virgil each met and became friends with Patton within days of each other. This occurred about a month before the "Great Disney Discovery", and as Patton was a peacemaker, he had worked unceasingly to try to make the pair get along. Despite his failed attempts at matchmaking, it didn't take long for all three of them to become close. Patton also brought Logan along to join the "friend squad" (or the famILY as it would later become called), and the four of them eventually found a comfortable synergy.

After graduation, Roman and Virgil started job hunting while Logan and Patton continued on to post-graduate studies. It soon became apparent, however, that the four of them finding an apartment together would drastically lower their living costs. It was the most logical solution, according to Logan, and one that Virgil had heartily supported. Both Logan and Virgil had struggled with their assigned roommates throughout college. They had only gotten a reprieve during senior year when they had been able to request each other. A whole year of quiet companionship, as well as a safe location for the four to hang out? It had been perfect. And while adding Roman and Patton to their living situation had taken some adjustment, they'd made it work.

Virgil had always been aware of Roman's general attractiveness. He was incredibly good looking, his body was lean and strong, like a professional ballet dancer, and he had charisma up to his eyeballs. It was easy to see why people wanted him. He'd had a variety of partners over the years, both male and female, though he usually resisted bringing them back to the apartment too often. So, Virgil only really got to see Roman acting romantically when in public.

As such, the Roman that Virgil got to know wasn't the charming smooth talker, but rather the easily offended goofball. Once they'd stopped going for each other's throats with every interaction, it was remarkably easy to become friends. So, while he was aware that Roman was aesthetically pleasing, that didn't necessarily mean that Virgil himself found him attractive. This assessment didn't appear to change for Virgil for a considerable amount of time.

They had been living together for a couple of years. Logan and Patton were both at the university. Patton had class while Logan was meeting with his PhD advisor. Virgil had a day off, so he had the run of the apartment. Well, Roman was home too, but Virgil was reasonably sure that he had an afternoon shift at the restaurant he worked at, so he would be heading off soon enough.

There were some things about Roman that never added up for Virgil. He was a total theatre geek with an undying love for Disney, who regularly bemoaned his vocal range being too low for all the Princess songs. Yet, whenever he was in public, he seemed to loudly scorn anything that didn't entirely conform to the gender binary. On two separate occasions, Virgil had watched as Roman turned down a clearly ideal role in a show that he apparently adored for tiny featured chorus or dancer positions, just because the character didn't emulate the stereotypical hyper-masculine leading man persona. And if the show included cross-dressing, Roman couldn't even be convinced to audition. In one case, after months of hearing the soundtrack on repeat, Roman always singing along, Virgil had been horrified to discover that Roman was not performing in the local theatre's latest Gilbert and Sullivan show, but instead was a member of the backstage crew. And all because the leading man was required to masquerade as a woman for part of the show.

It didn't just show up in his acting. For someone with such a bright and flamboyant personality, he had a strangely bland wardrobe. He actively appreciated each of their housemate's fashion choices. Multiple times, Virgil had caught him cooing over the cat and unicorn onesies Patton and Logan wore for their movie nights. Yet, he firmly refused to acquire one of his own. Any attempts at getting Roman to try on any clothes outside of his usual plain t-shirts and jeans, with the occasional dress shirt or suit for special occasions, was met with a resounding "no". Virgil wasn't exactly one to talk – about 90% of his own wardrobe was pure black – but something about it didn't make any sense to him. One birthday, he had gotten Roman a t-shirt from the other half of his favourite emo clothes store as a "gag" gift and, despite the loud protests to the contrary, it was clear to Virgil that Roman actually liked it. It wasn't that surprising. After all, he'd been staring wistfully at a very similar shirt about a week before Virgil had bought it.

Then there were the days where he vanished for hours on end and for no good reason. Virgil prided himself on being particularly observant. Still, even Logan could usually tell that something was off when Roman returned from his self-imposed exiles. Roman would always come back as his usual ball of sunshine and theatricality. Unfortunately, it always seemed forced, as he had manually turned the brightness up to eleven. The longer that Roman maintained the façade, the more painful it became for Virgil to watch. If it weren't for the fact that he knew that Roman didn't keep snacks in his room, and thus needed to leave his bedroom to eat, Virgil would have avoided disturbing him at all.

The current theory was depression. Virgil had suffered from depressive episodes on and off since he was fifteen, where he'd cycle between both extremes of eating and sleeping. Insisting to everyone that everything was fine while trying to convince his brain that, no, he didn't want to die. He'd spent hours sitting in countless therapists offices, talking about his feelings while trying to convince them he wasn't crazy. He was well aware of what the symptoms could look like. He wouldn't say anything, though, since if his experience was any metric, being forced to admit to your problems before you're ready is never pleasant.

Under normal circumstances, Roman tended to lock his door when he was in one of his moods. So, if Patton and Logan were out and Roman had been hiding in his room for too long, Virgil would knock on Roman's door, attempt to coax him out with promises of comfort food and Disney films, then go downstairs to wait. This time, however, the door wasn't locked. Roman had left the door slightly cracked. Virgil assumed that it had been an accident - Roman was more of a door completely open or completely closed kind of guy. He didn't tend to go for the middle ground.

The plan had been to knock on the door, to invite Roman downstairs for food and relaxation like he usually did. However, an insatiable curiosity grew in Virgil's chest, followed swiftly by incredible worry. Why hadn't Roman closed or locked the door? Did he forget? Or maybe he was so down that he couldn't get out of bed for long enough to lock his door? What would Patton do if he were here... Perhaps he should check in on him, just in case.

Virgil gently pushed the door open, feeling particularly relieved when the hinges didn't squeak and herald his arrival. He looked around the space for Roman but didn't immediately spot the actor. Instead, Virgil's eyes fell on a tall, almost willowy figure with intricately braided red hair. Long legs were encased in sinfully tight skinny jeans, and the long white tee didn't entirely cover... holy shit, no one's ass should look that good, even in skinny jeans. The figure turned to admire themselves from a different angle, and Virgil finally got a glimpse of their face in the mirror's reflection.

She was gorgeous.

Without conscious thought, Virgil pushed the door open wider and stepped closer so he could see her better. He was enchanted. She looked so familiar, but Virgil couldn't pinpoint where he'd seen her before. The trance broke suddenly when their eyes accidentally met in the mirror. She spun around. And promptly plastered herself against the wall, as if she was trying to put as much distance as possible between them.

"What are you doing here?!"

Wait... that was Roman's voice. Was that Roman? Less than a moment's study proved Virgil's hypothesis to be correct.

Holy shit, Roman looked incredible.

_Oh god, Virgil! Stop drooling and say something!_

"Well, I haven't seen you all day, and I thought you might want to watch a movie. But holy hell, Princess, you look incredible!"

And just like that, the blood was roaring in Virgil's ears, and he wanted to sink into the floor. He couldn't believe that he'd said that. Surely, he'd meant to say Princey, right? But Roman looked so beautiful, and Virgil's mouth ran ahead of his brain. Again. What would Roman think of him now?

"What did you just call me?"

Virgil bit his lip. It didn't seem like Roman was too angry at him. He wasn't yelling and, usually, he reacted with considerably more bluster to things like this. Though they were at home – Roman was significantly less likely to blow up to the same degree as with others out in public. He had always been more mellow at home, where he didn't have an audience. Virgil would have to watch closer.

"I called you 'Princess'." Virgil scrutinised his friend. He could have sworn that Roman seemed to relax the tiniest bit at the nickname. Maybe he liked it? Virgil was feeling moderately confident in his analysis, but his usual habit of over-apologising kicked in by reflex. "Is that okay? I'm sorry if you didn't like it, but it just slipped out. You just…"

Virgil cut himself off before he could say anything more compromising. He couldn't help but feel incredibly grateful that he wore foundation that day – he did not need Roman to see him blushing like a besotted schoolgirl! He wasn't going to finish that thought out loud. He wasn't! Roman cocked his head, looking almost like a lost puppy. Lord above, no one should be allowed to look that cute!

But as Virgil should have predicted, the curious question came mere moments later.

"I just... what?"

The words spilled from Virgil's lips like a torrent. "You look like you just stepped out of a Disney Princess film – you're so damn beautiful!"


	3. Chapter 3

"What are you doing here?!"

"Well, I haven't seen you all day, and I thought you might want to watch a movie. But holy hell, Princess, you look incredible!"

Roman wanted to die. His hands were shaking, and he could feel the blood rising in his cheeks, though he doubted it would be visible through the layers of foundation and blush. No one was supposed to see him like this! Yet, a warm feeling curled in his stomach. Did Virgil actually like it?

"What did you call me?" Roman squeaked.

Virgil bit his lip. "I called you 'Princess'. Is that okay? I'm sorry if you didn't like it, but it just slipped out. You just…"

"I just what?"

"You look like you just stepped out of a Disney Princess film – you're so damn beautiful!" Virgil blurted.

Virgil immediately clapped his hands over his mouth, his eyes becoming impossibly wide. This was quickly followed by a heavily muffled apology, as apparently Virgil couldn't bring himself to move his hands, even to speak. Roman suspected that if Virgil hadn't also been wearing heavy foundation, his skin would have been similarly red to how Roman's currently felt.

_Wait a second…_

"You think I look pretty?"

"Of course, I do, Cinderella. I mean, I think you're hot all the time, but damn…"

Everything hit Roman at once. The happiness over finding the right look. The pleasure of finally feeling right in his skin. The embarrassment over being caught. The fear of being humiliated and rejected. The anticipation over Virgil's possible reaction. The relief at being told he was beautiful. Tears welled up in Roman's eyes. Virgil lurched forward with his hands outstretched.

"Sweetheart, no. You'll mess up your eyeliner!"

That, apparently, was the final straw. The tears began to leak down his cheeks as Roman burst into hysterical giggles. And just like that, Virgil was standing in front of him, gently cupping his cheeks and trying to thumb the tears away before they smudged Roman's makeup. Roman reached out and grabbed several tissues from the chaos on his desk and began to dab, but Virgil snatched them away. With the precision of a surgeon, the tear tracks were erased, and the makeup was blended to fill in the gaps. Roman couldn't help but wish that he had applied the setting powder they used at the theatre. Yet somehow, he couldn't bring himself to properly care. Virgil, who apparently didn't think that his look was ridiculous but rather beautiful, was standing so close. Roman would barely need to bend down, and he could be kissing him. Virgil was right there and, by all that was holy, did he smell good.

Virgil stepped back, eyed his work, and softly smiled. "There you go, Gorgeous. Perfect again."

As much as he wanted to kiss Virgil at that moment, Roman couldn't help but turn and check the mirror. Virgil was right – his makeup looked as good as it had before the emo had entered the room. Roman grinned.

"You certainly know what you're doing with tears and makeup."

Virgil shrugged. "Well, we're certainly not called emos for acting like robots. Fixing eyeliner and mascara tracks is the first thing you learn. And no eyeliner is ever fully waterproof, no matter what the packaging says."

Roman snorted. "Speaking from experience?"

"Let's just say that my hoodie has covered up a lot of makeup disasters over the years."

The subsequent silence wasn't wholly awkward, precisely, but it wasn't entirely comfortable either. A thousand questions raced around Roman's mind as he tried to figure out the right words to say next. He was so focused on the internal debate that he almost entirely missed Virgil's next question.

"—cial occasion?"

Roman immediately snapped to attention. "What?"

"I was just wondering whether it was a special occasion, for you to get all dolled up like this? Because you look magnificent, Kitten."

"No occasion." Roman could feel his cheeks burning like fire again. What was up with all the cutesy nicknames all of a sudden? Nicknames were usually his thing! "I just felt like… looking pretty today. That's all."

"Well, you definitely succeeded. Though personally, I think you took a left turn somewhere and ended up in Hot Damn. But that's just me."

Now, Roman was sure that if he blushed any harder, his foundation would melt right off his face from the heat it was producing. He wanted desperately to bury his face in his hands, but he didn't want to destroy his and Virgil's hard work.

"How can you say things like that?" Roman squeaked. Screw kissing him, Roman didn't want to risk giving him third-degree burns from the heat radiating off his cheeks.

"I can only speak the truth on this. You look absolutely stunning, Darling."

Without any prompting, all of Roman's insecurities came flooding back with the force of a tsunami.

"How can you say that?!" Roman shrieked. "Don't you realise what a freak I am? How can you say things like that when I look like this? I look like a… a…"

"A what, Roman?" Virgil's voice was soft and soothing, which only made Roman feel worse. "A girl, maybe? Because there's nothing wrong—"

"Of course there is! I can't be a girl! I'm supposed to be a man, and men aren't allowed to look pretty, or wear pastels or makeup—"

Virgil quickly cut him off. "I don't know who told you that, but they're wrong. Men are absolutely allowed to look and feel pretty, wear whatever the hell they want and wear makeup. Do you think that I'm not a man?"

"Of course I do! But makeup is part of your scene. It's expected."

"Not really – plenty of goths and emo's don't wear makeup. I just happen to think it looks cool. And what if I became a pastel goth? I think I'd look rather pretty. Would you think I wasn't manly then?"

"I would never! I thought you hated pastel goths?"

"I do - they're a cop-out, and they don't wear nearly enough black. But you've proved my point. If I can wear makeup or pastels and still be manly, then why can't you?"

"Because I'm not!"

Virgil hesitated for a moment, before softly asking, "Not manly? Or not a man?"

"I— I—" Roman squeezed his eyes closed to stem the building tears. "I don't know."

"Can I hug you?"

Roman's eyes shot open again, allowing the first few tears to escape. Almost without conscious thought, Roman began to nod and fell into Virgil's arms. He was promptly enveloped in purple and black and warmth and comfort. What felt like decades of suppressed tears began to pour down Roman's cheeks and soak into Virgil's hoodie. Deciding that there was little point trying to preserve his makeup, Roman burrowed his face into the crook of the emo's neck and sobbed.

"You're okay. It's alright, Roman. Everything is going to be fine. There is nothing wrong with feeling like this, I promise."

Slowly, Virgil manoeuvred the pair until they were sitting on the edge of Roman's bed. A wave of exhaustion hit Roman, and he snuggled further into Virgil's embrace. Virgil just held him closer and began to gently run his fingernails up and down Roman's back in a surprisingly soothing gesture.

"Is this what you do on the days you lock yourself in your room, Angel? Make yourself pretty like this?"

Roman hummed in the affirmative.

"I wish I'd known sooner, Doll. A face as pretty as this shouldn't stay locked up. I know Patton would be so impressed."

There was no questioning if Patton would enjoy Roman's new look. Patton adored anything and everything cute. He was such a sucker for puppies, kittens and bunnies that he'd chosen to study veterinary science at college. He wanted to care for animals so strongly that he spent nearly as much time at college as _Logan_ , who had a PhD and was keen to work on a second.

"I s'pose..." Roman's lip slipped between his teeth, making him look even cuter than Virgil thought was possible. "But what about Logan?"

What about Logan, indeed. Their intellectual housemate was a potential wildcard. Logan was very logical in the way he saw the world. He preferred it if things stayed consistent and ordered and often struggled with the lack of predictability found in human emotion and interaction. He liked to have control over his environment, and when he couldn't, he didn't always express his frustration in the best ways. Despite all of this, there was little Logan wouldn't do for Patton.

"I can't be sure. But I know that Logan loves learning new things. And for all his awkwardness, he cares about you nearly as much as Patton does."

Roman snorted. "No one loves anything as much as Patton does."

Virgil shrugged. "He has a lot of love to give. But considering how much you and Logan used to clash, I'm pretty sure he would have killed you by now if he didn't care for you."

"True."

"So why hide that beautiful face of yours away?"

"I'm not supposed to be pretty," Roman mumbled.

"What?"

"I'm not—"

"Sorry, I heard what you said. What I meant was, why aren't you allowed to be pretty?"

"I'm a man," Roman parroted. "Men aren't supposed to be pretty. Girls are pretty. Men are meant to be rugged and handsome."

"Roman..."

"It's bad enough that I prance about on the stage like some sort of sissy, I don't need to make it worse by acting like a..."

"Like a girl?" Virgil offered.

Roman opened his mouth, as if to argue or even complain, but snapped it shut again.

A thought suddenly occurred to Virgil. "You know, it's okay to want to look pretty or dress up like a girl if you want to. It's even okay if you want to be a girl. I won't judge you, and neither will Patton or Logan."

"But... But I'm a boy! I was born a boy!"

"I know that, Roman. I'm just saying that just because someone was born in a male body, doesn't mean they have to look like one all the time, or that their brain agrees with that assessment."

Roman's eyes widened. "I'm not transgender! I swear, I'm not. I don't even know why I did this - I should take all of this off. God, I'm a freak."

"Hey, no... you don't have to get changed, not unless you really want to. I think you look amazing like this. You look more like yourself than I've seen you in years."

"Like a freak of nature?"

Virgil shook his head. "Beautiful. Full of life. Happy and comfortable in your skin. At least until you saw that I'd walked in, anyway." Virgil smiled wryly. "I scared you, didn't I? I'm really sorry for that."

Roman frowned. "For coming in?"

"For scaring you."

Virgil pressed a gentle kiss into Roman's hair. Almost immediately, Roman's eyes widened, and his head shot up, nearly catching Virgil's chin on the way.

"Did you just…? Do you…? Can I…? I mean…" Roman stammered, his throat clamping down against his will around each question. Why were none of his words working properly?!

"Take a breath for me, Princess." Virgil gave him a soft smile, turning Roman's insides to goo. If Roman had ever thought that Virgil was hot when he smirked, that had nothing on when he smiled. "One question at a time."

"Do you—" Roman swallowed against the lump in his throat. "Do you like me?"

Virgil blinked, his brows furrowing in apparent confusion. "Do I like you?"

"Do you like me?" Roman asked again before ploughing on. "I mean, I really hope I'm not reading the signals wrong, because I really like you and I'm hoping that you like me too because you've been really wonderful and, holy shit, I really want to kiss you right now and—"

The words were stolen from Roman's mouth by a pair of soft lips slanted across his own. Roman's mind ground to a sudden halt. Oh god, Virgil was kissing him! The warm hand that cupped his face felt like a brand against Roman's flushed cheek. His eyes slid closed.

Then, as quickly as he had begun, Virgil pulled away. The very lip that had caused Roman's brain to short-circuit was now tucked between Virgil's teeth. The hand that had cupped Roman's jaw so lovingly had disappeared into Virgil's hoodie pocket. The emo's posture was tense as if he was bracing for a blow. Roman struggled to kick his brain back into gear. Why would Virgil be bracing himself after a kiss that good?

Then it hit him – Roman hadn't kissed him back. He'd been so overwhelmed by the suddenness of the gesture and the incredible sensations it had inspired that he'd failed to respond. Roman grinned. Well then…

Virgil flinched back when Roman threw his arms around the emo's neck but quickly relaxed when their lips met again. This time, however, it was far from chaste. Roman ran his tongue across the seam of Virgil's lips, playfully begging for entrance. Virgil opened them obediently, groaning softly when the tips of their tongues brushed.

Roman couldn't help but gasp when Virgil wove his fingers into Roman's hair and gently tugged. A thrill ran up his spine. Roman had never known that he'd liked his hair pulled – it had always seemed like an odd kink to him, since it should cause pain, and none of his previous partners had ever wanted to try. Yet somehow, when Virgil did it, it felt amazing. It felt almost like a massage.

He pulled away from the kiss.

"Do that again."

Then returned to the kiss with gusto.

By the time the pair finally came up for air, Roman's hair was an unmitigated disaster, there wasn't a trace of Roman's lipstick left on either of their lips and Virgil was sporting a brand-new hickey on the spot where his neck met his jawbone. Roman was grinning like a loon, feeling unreasonably proud as he surveyed his work. Virgil had been more than receptive when Roman had latched on. Still, he was going to need some seriously good concealer to cover up a bruise of that size.

Virgil lifted a hand to prod at the mark and smiled wryly. "I never expected you to be a biter, Princess. I'm going to have to get you back for this, you know."

The warm, fuzzy feeling in his stomach was back at the return of the fondly-spoken nickname. Perhaps it was alright to be a little more feminine from time to time. As Virgil had said, there was nothing wrong with wanting to feel pretty or dress up like a girl. If that made him a freak, then maybe it was time to let his freak flag fly.

Roman wanted to look pretty, but Virgil made him feel beautiful.

Maybe he could stand to be Virgil's Princess on occasion.


End file.
